


Drabble Dump

by TheLockPickingVictorian



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLockPickingVictorian/pseuds/TheLockPickingVictorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr promps, mini fics and works</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: “I almost lost you.” + “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” + “I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” + Olicity. 3rd of March 2015

They were back in the foundry before they realised, Felicity supporting Oliver on his twisted, slashed, probably dislocated ankle, and it wasn’t until she’d propped him down on the medical table, when Roy hugged her and she grunted, leaving red stains over the front of his white shirt, when her eye went cloudy and her knees week - through and through her small, battered body. And then, when Oliver roared and Laurel screamed, when Thea gasped and Roy sweared, Digg caught her falling body, before she even knew the world was fading fast.

* * *

“Digg and Roy left. They took the girls with them, thankfully.” Oliver was quite, leaning on his hands, head hug as he let the table take the weight of both him and the burdens that pressed down on his mighty shoulders. “We should get you home.”

“Oliver.” She shifted where she sat, her jeans covered legs dangling over the edge of the table, one hand pressed over the stitches under her collarbone, the other reaching out to smooth her numb fingers over the skin of his fingers, his gloves shed and binned and stained with her blood. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“It’s not okay,” He sighed, turning his hand over to grip her fingers lightly, and turning his head, not to look at her, but to press his lips to the tender skin of her temple, before he dropped his head into the crock of her neck, his noes against her pulse. “I almost lost you, Licity."

"Butch'a didn’t.” She sighed, soothing her fingers over the slowly scabbing split near his cheek bone. “I’m here, Oliver. I’m not going to go anywhere. You should know that by now! I love you.”

“I know, but at the same time, I know that I’m in love with you and I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you, that you’ll be gone and that it’ll be my fault.” She moved her fingers to run through his hair, tender and careful and loving, everything that Felicity was. Most of the time. “I don’t want that. I couldn’t, I couldn’t stand that.”

And when he raised his head, she pressed her lips over his eyelids, over his cheek and nose and temples. Over the invisible dimples and the barley there freckles and the thin lines,

“You won’t lose me.” She told him softly, guiding his hand to press it to her still flat stomach. “You won’t lose us. I promise you that. You are the only one that I trust to do this with, Oliver; to be a superhero and a father. You we’re all going to be fine.”

“No one is ever going to hurt you again.” He promised, hoisting her up and into his arms, wrapping her up in the safest place she knew. “I swear it.”


	2. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of Cherchersketch's comic Storm! I can't work out how to add links soo.. httm://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/post/120866592228/smoakandpepper-smoakandpepper-so-yes-i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Character death. 17th July 2015

In so many ways, the new suit was far superior to the old one, no matter the sentimental attachments, which really was the reason why Oliver continued to use it. But when it came to being exposed to the raw elements, it was… less adequate. The mesh - fantastic for allowing movement within the stiff armoured plates - was now pressed into him, sodden and sticking to the skin underneath. Said armoured plates, which were, yeah okay, really helpful with the whole _protection of the internal organs_ thing, slipped together and off of another, jabbing into the muscle below. His forearms were freezing, yet another tick in the ‘sleeveless is not practical’ box, but at least now, with it’s newly upgraded tech, the hood stayed up and out of his eyes, no matter how much water there was to weigh it down.

The next bolt of lightning struck down only a street away from his perch, and it took everything inside of him for Oliver to hold his frame still and not not flinch when the thunder rolled along, despite there being no one to witness such an act or miles. Breathing shallowly, he fished inside one of the boxes that he normally kept sealed while on patrol, especially when he was alone, and allowed himself to recall the last time he’d stood in such a storm. Somewhere upstate, where the bad weather had come across the sea and assaulted the windows of their beach house, he’d slept through most of it. He’d woken twice, and each time Felicity lead him outside by the hand, letting the rain soak her hair and his shirt, and promised she would never let the storm taking him away from her. She’d kissed him on thunderclaps, nuzzled him on the lightning strikes, until he could no longer breathe and lead her back inside, the fire in their room drying away the rain like she did his fears.

Exposure therapy, she told him on the beach the next day, the air humid but they pressed together anyway, seemed to be effective in him. He told her, truthfully, his nose squished against hers, that Felicity therapy worked better. That there where times where he felt he could do anything, be anything, as long as he had her. There had been a ‘forever’ somewhere within that phrasing, and she had laughed, told him it was beginning to sound like a proposal and shoved him down into the damp sand. He left her speechless, assuring her that he owed her a better proposal than that, before he left her breathless.

Now, on the top of one of the tallest buildings in the Glade’s, Oliver abandoned his vantage point, compressing his binoculars and slipping them into one of the many pockets in the _useless_ new suit, as he headed towards the zipline he’d used to scale the building, something inexplicably warm and Felicity shaped in his gut pulling him home through the rooftops.

The bedroom balcony was as open as it was when he’d left hours ago, despite his very vocal disapprove and their very enthusiastic arguments. She reminded him almost daily that she wouldn’t sleep in the high humidity and she had that very _very_ important meeting in the morning that she needed to CEO for and that sleeping was kind of important, that she was ten stories up, that (as she so often loved to point out to him, his insistence to stay as close to Thea as possible, even though she was more than capable of looking after herself,) she was left with at least one vigilante no more than ten feet from her in an direction at all times. Perfectly safe from an open window.

Setting down on the threshold as quietly as he could, suspecting that Felicity would have fallen asleep before the late hours set in, whether she’d tried to wait up for him or not. She’d begun to succumb to the early mornings and late nights she’d put in since they’d returned to Starling much easier than she had before they’d left, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow if she hadn’t already dosed off in the car. The strategically placed dagger went through the zip line with a twang no quieter than Felicity’s oh so quiet breathes, and Oliver pulled the arrow back out of the wall and dropped it on top of the draws, where he set the quiver down, trying not to disturb and rattle the arrows within and he shoved back the hood, and threw down the mask too, shaking away the rain drops that had migrated under them and into his hair and eyes. He’d have a grumpy blonde Koala on his arse in the morning for leaving his ‘heroing accessories’ around the house again (No, he’s not the only one who does it) (Yes, there might be a chance of life imprisonment - or worse - if he’s caught), but more than anything, all he wanted to do was climb into her space and hold her until she had to work. Sleep could wait.

She was adorable when she slept, curled up in the middle of their bed, her head lulling to the side as she dosed, and Oliver halted in his path to the bed, to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully.

And then he made himself to stop, because yes, it was dark and he was squinting to even make out her outline, but surely the movement of her breathing would be visible from so close?

But with the next lightning crack, Oliver was hard pressed to chose which of the sights before him had his heart sinking lower.

The familiar stench under the humidity of the air, thick and coppery.

The mused bed sheets, so different to the way they had left them that morning - a violent scattering rather than playful, half the purple fabric on, the other half off the bed, aiding the flow of the river of blood that almost reached his feet.

The walls, the grey paint smeared red, the words _‘Welcome home, Arrow_ ’ dripped down onto the hastily drawn arrow below it.

Blood - the same blood as was spread across their walls, Oliver realised, brawling with the churning in her stomach - was painted across her brow and under her closed eye, dripping down the apple of her cheek and onto her throat. So much blood, as though they were deep wounds, as though she’d put up a fight, her hair wild and congealed, sticking to the side of her face.

It was the arrow that made him drag his feet across the floor though. The very black arrow, embedded in her abdomen and coating her nightgown - the one he’d bought her, that she only wore when she waited for him - shredding her soft skin and pinning her in place, the shaft buried in the mattress. The blood on her neck and chest, upon closer inspection, were hand prints, as though someone had covered their hands in her blood and written on the walls. As if someone had held her down while she bleed out, refusing her help.

He wondered briefly if she’s tried calling for him, if he’d gone too far to hear her, and it pulled the howl from somewhere dark and ugly inside him, hands shaking as he reached. The knee of his suit soaked through with blood as he ran gentle but hurried fingers over her pulse point senselessly, skipping up and into her hair when he couldn’t find a beat there, blinking rapidly as red, purple, pink and yellow blurred into one bright, contrasting mess of failure.

Words, pleas, apologies, her name, there seemed to be no force - not Malcolm Merlyn, nor Slade Wilson, Ra’s Al Ghul, Damien Drakh, magic, mystery, misdirection, anger, hate, _love_ \- that could force the words past his tongue, into the open, undeniable air. So Oliver gasped instead, large, frantic, unsteady breaths, lungs trying to reclaim the oxygen that the hand that had crushed her graceful neck had snatched from him.

“Oliver?”

He registered the call, someone somewhere far away sounding but probably too close. Maybe it was Thea, having heard noise he didn’t remember making, coming to check on what was causing such commotion. The catch of his breath, the red hot heat of tears against her slowly chilling skin, the ice in his bones, stopped him from turning reach for his sisters comfort.

“Oliver!”

He knew that voice, almost better than his own. Not Thea’s no, but familiar, female and unreachable as his vision tunnelled, fading black. And the world snapped back into focus with a sharp exhale, like something had lifted fog from his eyes. He closed them tightly against the brightness of emotions that made his hands shake. Sorrow, all consuming and binding, realised its hold on his airways, leaving space for the anger, anger at the bastard who drove their arrow through her liver, anger at himself, again, for bringing her back to Starling, back into the danger. They should have settled, somewhere in Coast City maybe. Where she’s bed safe, lead out below him in their bed for a completely different reason.

But she wasn’t below him. Because Oliver was the one lead on his back. And then there was the hands, gentle and warm on his cheek and he threw his eyes open.

Three years ago, his first instinct was to attack. Now, despite the present anger telling him to punch the nearest thing as hard as he could, he had no energy left to even move. Not when the sight before him baffled him so much.

“Hey there.” Felicity tried to pull her mouth up into a comforting smile, but her cheeks trembled slightly and her eyes were large and round and wet. “Hey. It’s alright.”

His hand shot up instantly from where they’d been, holding on to the sheet so tightly, and he cradled her face the way he had done when her eyes were closed and her veins were open. He stayed silent, watching her grip his wrist and feeling the gentle brush of her fingers over his skin as he shook the confusion from his mind.

The sun was rising, but the windows, closed as ever, were still peppered with rain from the thunder storm the night before. He hadn’t gone on patrol, and he most certainly was not wearing his leathers, instead the dark green boxers that had been a gag gift.

Felicity wore her nightgown - the one he’d bought her, that she only wore when she teased for him - the pretty pink slip of fabric that she’d picked up off of the floor sometime around midnight, when she’d thrown his own discarded clothes at his face and ordered him not to fall asleep before she came back. He listened. She returned to him looking less like a foul than when she had left but her knees still shaking as she’d curled up beside him, smiling lazily. He doesn’t remember her falling asleep.

Its not the first time that he’d woken to her straddling his hips, her hand pushed into his shoulder to keep his back on the bed, not by a long shot, but it was the first that flooded him with such a dose of relief. Unable to force out anything from behind his swollen tongue, Oliver turned his head guiding her hand from where it settled against his cheek to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand and lingering, filling his lungs with strawberries and caramel, expelling the stench of blood as he sat up.

She watched him carefully, the way she always did when he woke her screaming, not letting up the distance between them. And once he sat, she clamped her knees firmly against his hips, keeping her steady as she cupped his head in her hands and pressed her lips, firm but agonisingly gentle, against his forehead, soothing away the creases there while her thumbs wiped at his tears.

With shaky hands and uneven breathes, he tipped her sideways, down onto the large bed, arms tight around her as he pressed his head down over her heart, one hand flat against the imaginary exit wound, her chin on his head as she held him to her, ready to fight the monsters in the night.


	3. Wedding Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two miserable people meeting at a wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd August 2015

The glass of red wan’t even empty before someone was pushing another into her hand, warm and rich and one hundred present yummy looking, the gorgeous human who handed it to her leaning against the bar beside her.

“It’s so hard.” Laurel hummed thoughtfully, staring out at the dance floor, their matching dresses brushing together as she shifted. “I’ve had seven long months to prepare, but it’s still so much easier to think of Donna as my new mother than it is to think of you as my new sister! Maybe it’s cause of Sara, or how little you’re around, what with the job and everything, but you’re still my bestie! And now you’re my sister! It’s wonderful!”

“It was a gorgeous ceremony, wasn’t it?” Felicity tried, she really did, not to laugh at Laurel’s drunken slur. It was harder than expected.

“Too right!” Her new sister launched an arm around Felicity’s neck, nearly upsetting the glass and possibly triggering a mini heart attack. Yes, Felicity knew she looked good in purple, but the blue dress was expensive and she’d be damned if any harm came to it. “I’m sooo glad we introduced your mum to my dad! My mum to your dad! Our mum to our dad!” She clapped happily, grinning at Felicity. “Donna looks so pretty! I hope I look half as fabulous as her on my wedding day!”

“I’m Merlyn ever gets his head out on his arse and his knee on the ground, you’ll be a thousand times prettier, Laurel-lei.”

“And you’ll be my bridesmaid! Obviously I have to make Sara my maid of honour, but you and Jonanna are gonna be bridesmaids too! And it’ll be under a huge canopy at sunset, and everything will have a purple theme and daddy’ll give me away, like you gave away Donna, and it’ll all be perfect!” She sighed, and Felicity followed her eyes to Tommy, dancing effortlessly with his little sister.

“Merlyn’s a lucky guy, that’s for sure. He’s not going to have anything to plan at all. Just show up and say I do!” Deciding against nudging Laurel, even gently in the killer heels she was wearing, Felicity folded her arms, mindful of her wine.

“That’s very true.” Laurel nodded soberly, but her eyes were still hazed over. “I’ve had everything planned since I was about nine! With the exception of you and Donna of course. Tommy doesn’t even have to pick a best man!”

“No?”

“No.” A shake of the head. ”That’s been Ollie’s job since they were ten years old.”

“What’s been my job?”

The new voice was deep, and Felicity turned instantly, almost sloshing her drink over herself again in her hast too see their new arrival. Tall, handsome and totally built, Felicity blinked twice, making sure that who she was seeing was defiantly Oliver Fricking Queen, Tommy’s best friends who had been so totally against meeting her in the last year and a half.

“Tommy’s best man.” Laurel answered swiftly.

“He proposed?”

“Not yet he hasn’t!” And she winked.

“Good. Because I’d have to kick his arse for not telling me first.” Oliver laughed, and fuckity fuck if he didn’t look twenty times yummier than her wine. And the rest. “But I think he’s looking for you, so you never know. You did catch the bouquet, after all!”

“Is he?” Straightening the bodice of her dress quickly, Laurel reached up to tease her hair, before planting a wet, wine stained kiss against Felicity’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit, Lissy! I have my man too amuse!” And she moved so quickly, that by the time Felicity had turned to look at her, there was nothing left but a wisp of blue satin as she disappeared into the crowed.

“Lissy.” Said the man she was oh so suddenly abandoned with. “I suppose you’re Felicity, Laurels new step sister?”

“That’s me! Yep, the Captain’s new Stepdaughter.” She laughed, and ohh shit she could already feel that spiralling out of control. “They call me Cindy, sometimes, like Cinderella. Not that they’re evil to me or anything. They’re really nice, which I’m sure you know because you’ve known the Lances forever, but because there’s two of them and one of me, and I’m the blonde one, even though I’m not technically blonde.” She set the wine down with a decisive clunk. “No more wine for me.”

“I’m Oliver Queen.” He… well, it looked like he was laughing, but he might have been having an aneurysm.

“I know that.” She nodded, blinking quickly. “Why are you still here?”

”Pardon?”

“In the last nine months since my Mother has been engaged to Laurel’s father, Tommy has invited you to nine family dinners with us.” She folded her arms. “You only attended three, the three I missed. I figured your were avoiding me.”

“I’m sorry, if I made you feel that way. They were, apparently, terrible coincidences.” Oliver sighed softly, his touch on her shoulder just as gentle. “To be quite honest, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Your mother speaks very highly of you.” He reached back to scratch at his neck, like he was nervous, and holy heck his arms were huge! “Um, so much looking forward to it, that I might have lied to my friend about her boyfriend looking for her to spend some time alone with you.”

Okay. What?!

“So, What would you say if I asked you to dance before the wicket stepsister returns to kick my arse for wooing her baby sister?”


	4. 7am - No Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra's Al Ghul takes his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes major character death. 3rd September 2015

Diggle knelt beside her, Roy behind him but closer than the rest. Laurel, Thea, Lyla, even Capitan Lance, with his hat off and pressed to chest.

And Oliver… Oliver stared.

His chest had been empty for a long time now. The heart that beat there belonged to no one, because he had given his up to her without a second thought, and there wasn’t a soul alive that was stupid enough to surrender their heart to Oliver Queen. And certainly not Felicity Smoak.

Her life, however? He’d taken that greedily, entwined himself so thoroughly that there was no removing him, until he’d deluded her into thinking that she loved him too. And now there was nothing left of her, the body her friends cried over cold and empty. Her body. Left for him.

John beckoned him over, like he had any right to morn her. He collapsed to his knees beside her anyway, and let himself sob like she had been his to lose.

She hadn’t.

His tears slipped, dripping down and falling onto lips he’d only kissed once. He’d dreamt of that kiss, of her lips beneath his, her hair silky, how her mouth was warm and soft and sweet, when all he could hear was the word ‘selfish’. He longed to wipe those tears from her mouth, too petrified that she’d be cold under his fingers to move, that he’d wipe away her last kiss. Palmer’s kiss. The man she loved, her kiss given willingly, not stolen mid-word.

He couldn’t take that from her too.

And her led her head in his lap and pressed his lips to her forehead, over the genius mind that had started both the birth and death of Starling City’s hero, and he begged Diggle, Roy, Quinton, Laurel - any one with a weapon - to save him, to end the monster who loved her.


	5. In the Limo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4x09 spec that was very wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still angry. 6th December 2015

Her lungs were still hurting. According to the paramedics, there’s a good chance that there were hairline fractures on her ribs from the CPR, but she refused to go to the hospital. All she wanted was her bed, her pyjamas, and her _fiance_.

Not her boyfriend, no. Oliver Queen wasn’t her boyfriend any more. Two weeks ago, she’d lead on their bed and tried to keep the tears at bay, that particular idea grinding her heart into tiny little flecks. Now her hands were still shaking and her heart was pounding, but there was a grin on her face. Oliver was grinning beside her, her hands in his lap, his fingers stroking over her joints. He had the other arm around her shoulders, holding her into him loosely and she had the distinct feeling that he’d be hugging her to him if he wasn’t so worried about her ribs. He already felt bad enough about that.

“I love you.” He whispered into her hair, kissing her curls gently. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She laughed, craning her neck back to look at him. “For saying yes? Or for not dying? Although I did throw up on you, so you probably shouldn’t thank me for that.”

Oliver snorted that wonderful laugh, like he’d didn’t quite expect her to say that, or maybe that he didn’t expect for it to make him laugh. Still. “For being you.” He winked her, and gave her that _oh so sinful_ grin she loved so much. “And for saying yes, obviously.”

“Well, the boards been nagging at me to re-brand the company for a while.” She shrugged, pressing up to nuzzle his jaw while he laughed quietly. She dropped a quick kiss on his throat, watching his eyes shutter momentarily as he looked down at her; tender, lustful and loving. The same way Oliver had always looked at her. “How does Queen’s Incorporated sound to you?”

He swirled her hair around his fingers and kissed her pulse again. "I expected a ring, you know.“ She told him gently, her voice soft and teasing so that he knew she didn’t mean it. "Don’t get me wrong, you got everything else perfect. I didn’t expect you to kneel on that grass - you’re still wet! But when I pictured this, there was always a ring. Something green, normally.” Oliver went very quiet, and his finger busied itself with circling her ring finger.

“There was a ring.” He told her quietly, after a while. “Diamond. An old family ring. My father gave it to my mother, and his father before that. I asked Thea to send it to me when we were moving into Ivy Town; you wouldn’t have spared a thought to packages showing up then. And then the soufflés… it didn’t quite go the way I wanted it to. Or any time since."

She nodded slowly, pieces of his secrecy falling into place. "When we showed Thea the bunker, she asked why I wasn’t wearing ‘it’. She meant you’re mother’s ring, didn’t she?”

“She did. It was in my pocket at the time - I carried it with me a lot. It was the only way I could think of to keep you from finding it.”

“Bad idea. You know how I love putting my hands in your pockets!” She grinned when she saw him smile. “You don’t have it now?”

“No.” The smile fell. The sombre Oliver of a past life flickering into focus. “I stopped.”

“Changed your mind?”

“Yes, but never about you.” He let her go and stroked her cheek gently, catching her lip and leaning down to kiss her. When she pulled back, the happiness that she had seen so recently was gone, replaced with so much sadness. “I found out something, about my mother. About something she did to my family, the lies that she told. I don’t want to be like that. So, we’ll find you a new ring, something untainted, if you decide you want to stay.”

She sighed, undoing her seatbelt and turning on her knees to look him in the eye; taking his face in her hands. Silently scolding him with her eyes, her words said it all. "Oliver I just agreed to _marry_ you. If you didn’t believe that I’m staying before, you should now.“

"I think you should wait until I tell you the truth before you make that decision.” He sighed, looking oh so pensive. He swallowed, his pulse racing under her hand. “You asked me what happened in Central city; I said nothing. I lied.”

“I know.” And she did. “I was waiting for you to work it out for your self. We’re better off together, Oliver.”

“As a team. I know, you keep saying.” She watched him duck his head, watched his eyes close and gloss over… Kissed him. Pulled the smile from his lips. “You deserve to know. You _have_ to know. But I'm scared - I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and the consequences..”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She told him, tracing the Bratva tattoo on his chest gently. Normally it relaxed him, made him grin at her and kiss her. And kiss her and _kiss_ her… By now, there was no smile on his lips as tears slipped from his eyes. “I understand that your mother is difficult for you to talk about.”

“It’s not about my mother.” He whispered. “Its about me - about something I did. And I want you to know. But I’m scared. I can’t lose you too and for a moment, I thought that I had Felicity.”

“Before I threw up on you.” When her quip got no reaction from him, she ignored the awful feeling in her gut that told her something was desperately wrong, crawled into his lap and straddled him, pressing her forehead to his. “You will never lose me, Oliver.”

“When we were in Central city.” He began what she knew would be a long story.“I met -”

She yanked her head from his, cutting him short, her head tilted to the left. Towards the sound. _Ping, ping, ping…_

“Can you hear that?”

The limousine flipped, water rushing in through the windows, pulling, crawling, dragging her into the black…


	6. Pitty Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm Furious. Oliver says goodbye to the idea of being a father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're like me and want to kill people when 4x15 is mentioned, run away now.

When it was all said and done, he left too. The table went flying and the laptop cracked and the ring… he didn’t really know, to be honest, and nor did he care. This is his mother’s fault, she sold away his right to be a father, and while Twenty year old Oliver Queen might have worried about the responsibility that held, it had to be better than this. He couldn’t bear to be reminded of his mother, or any one else in his could have been family, so he let it fly away from him and fall somewhere unknown.

He wanted to drink. There was a split in his soul and he wanted it gone, and if there was no fix for it, maybe he’d be able to make it leave when he hits the bottom of a bottle. How he ever judged Laurel for her struggles is beyond him.

Instead he left Followed her out the door and took the stairs for the first time in months, and goes to the only place that he knew he wasn’t likely to do anything stupid, wasn’t likely to be turned away.

Diggle opened the door on the first knock, and he understood immediately. He let him in, poured the Whiskey and topped off the glass the moment its was back on the table. Somewhere in the house, Sara started to cry, and Oliver downed two shots in the time it took John to bring her out, cursing again his playboy years and his tolerance.

There wasn’t enough booze in the world to fill the emptiness, but maybe there was enough to render his sleep dreamless.

“Can I hold her?” He asked John quietly, raising his head from the glass and blinking away the water. He wouldn’t be judged, surely.

“Is that a good idea, Oliver?” Sara settled as her dad rocked her to sleep. Somewhere, William fell asleep in his car, still wondering who his father was. “After everything?”

“Please?” It was then that he pushed the glass back, and told himself he’d find a better way to deal with… everything. “I never got to - with William, and I’m never going to….” He stopped, breathed deep, and tried again. “I’ll never get another chance.”

And Digg caved, setting the sleeping girl in Oliver’s arms, and that’s when the tears came.

He’d missed this when William grew up. He’d never get to have this again. The darling girl he held was the one who made him realise almost two years ago that he craved this, a small bundle of him and her who he could love and protect. He’d failed both of those tonight, and now that future he’d dreamt of is long gone.

Jonas doesn’t fit him. He could change his middle name to _loner_ , or _failure_ , or _broken_. They fit.

“I told you Diggle.” He whispered, nuzzling into the girls gorgeous brown skin and kissing there, trying to defuse a lifetime of want into one short hug before he let it go again, for good. “I have to be alone. I can’t have anyone else break because of me.”

“You’re not broken, Oliver.” There’s a lot Oliver envied about Diggle. His family, his trust, his wholeness, but right now it was his naivety. “Just bruised, man.”

Oliver stayed there for a very long time, rocking the small girl back and forth, until Lyla’s return caused the girl to fuss again, stretching for her mummy, and then Sara was something else that he had to let go.

And Oliver…

Oliver drank again.


	7. Dino Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity loves Dinosaurs. Oliver indulges her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for ourwritinginvein's birthday. 19th December 2016

In all honesty, she doesn’t really know how she ended up in her bed.

But in all things considered, Felicity doesn’t remember the last time she was in her bed, despite it being only three or four days ago. Fitful sleep had plagued her when she’d returned from Nanda Parbat, and eventually she’d given up and had taken to sleeping on her sofa, or Digs. Before that, there’d been Thea’s ‘accident’ and Roy’s sacrifice, and with Oliver’s arrest and Ray’s jaunt in hospital, and… well. She’d had a very busy week. So she doesn’t exactly remember the last time she actually slept in her in bed.

But now, now she’s here, and Ra’s AL Ghul was dead, ended, gone, and Oliver was there, and he’d asked her to go away with him. And for the first time in god knows how long, Felicity could sleep in her own bed. With Oliver.

And her stuffed Dinosaur, apparently. That Oliver found - because of course he did - by laying on it.

“What the…” He sat up, just slightly, pushing up onto his elbows and he pulled the Triceratops out from under his his back. He regarded it for a moment, and then looked back up at her, straddling his hips, her blouse somewhere across the room, and rose his eyebrow up at her.

“Did you have plans?” He laughed (yes, Oliver Queen finally knew how to laugh), and he waggled the stuffed toy in her face, the point at the end of the dinosaur’s nose bouncing off of hers. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh my God!” She snatched the plush from his hands and turned it over between her hands, not looking at him. “I didn’t know she was there! I’m sorry.”

“Felicity, it’s fine.” He shuffled himself up until he was sat with his back against her headboard as she shifted her hips, letting him go. She settled opposite him with her legs crossed, the Triceratops settled on her lap. “Everyone’s got their old toys, right? Thea’s still got the unicorn I brought her for her third birthday somewhere.” That made Felicity smile. Oliver was definitely _not_ Ollie, but one thing that had never, and would never change, was how much he loved his sister.

“Yeah, but not every twenty five year old has dinosaurs hogging their bed!”

“Dinosaurs?” He stressed the ‘s’ as he looked around the bed. “Do you have _more_?”

“No, Tricey here is the only dinosaur that I have… unfortunately.” He watched her pulling that stupidly attractive face that had no right to be so damn pretty, and she could almost feel the ‘really’ that went unspoken in the way that his head turned. He didn’t need to say anything. “I uh… might have a small obsession with dinosaurs?”

“That…” Oliver went back to being still then, after so long of not caring how he moved, or why. She understood his defense mechanisms, of course she did, but there were times, most of them, that she wished they didn’t exist. “I didn’t know that.” He said eventually.

“No one does.” SHe shrugged one shoulder and smiled widely, trying to put him back at ease. “I don’t exactly advertise it!”

“Still…” He trailed off again, like he often did when he was doubting himself. Then, unsure, he reached out and stroked a hesitant finger down the ridge of the dinosaurs back. “What’s his name?” Felicity raised both her eyebrows at his change in topic, but she went with it anyway.

“ _Her_ name is Tricey.” It wasn’t the most original name, but… “My mum brought her for me when I was eight. She lives on my bed because, well honestly because I only use half of it and I needed to put _something_ on the other side because otherwise what was the point of having a double bed?” And slowly Oliver’s ice melted, and he began to move again, until the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile.

“I’m afraid she’ll have to sleep on the floor tonight.” He pulled gently on Felicity’s hand until she was perched daintily on his lap. “Cause we need to sleep if we’re gonna hit the road tomorrow, and I have no intention of leaving you anytime soon.”

Despite what Oliver said, the dinosaur stayed right there, on the foot of her bed, and when Felicity went to retrieve a jumper from her suitcase in their first motel the next day, the triceratops was sat right on top of the clothes she had packed.

* * *

 

She still hadn’t given up on wearing Pajamas. There was no point with Oliver Oliver around; they come off as soon as she put then on, and her poor circulation was no longer an issue with her superhero-turned-super-boyfriend-turned-furnace around, But she kept wearing them, too squeaked by the idea of being naked in a hotel bed _by choice_. Oliver didn’t complain, instead he encouraged it, amused by the various colours and patterns of the bed clothes she wore, and having a whale of a time convincing her out of them. Very easily.

And then there was the box on the bed, waiting for her.

Oliver liked buying her things. He always had. He’d brought her coffee, just to see her smile, and cheerfully handed over his fancy black credit card to fund her tech needs. He’d hand picked dresses he’d seen while playing pack mule for Thea, and presented them to her in neatly wrapped wrapped boxes in the office or the foundry just because they had reminded him of her.But now he was broke. And even her lectures didn’t stop him from spoiling her rotten.

She’d squealed that first time, sat in their motel with the box on her lap, grinning down at the dinosaur splattered onesie. She’d babbled though the facts and statistics of the Brachiosuarus before realising he probably didn’t care. He had.

She didn’t wear it for long though. Because _Oliver_.

* * *

 

She stole his hoodie. He only had one, and Ivy town was cold. It irritated him though, just as much as it amused him. And he never complained if she _only_ wore the hoodie.

Of course, her plan of action was to surprise him with a new one, and _of course_ it was dark green, the same colour as his suit. And it worked. Until he did the same and handed her her own hoodie. It was the same green as the one she’d given him, with a large red heart on the front. And there was a Stegosaurus inside the heart, with the phrase ‘I love dinosaurs’ underneath.

She loved it, and she told him so, but it didn’t stop her from stealing his.

* * *

When they come back to Star City - back, not home, because they were leaving home and then they were coming back -he surprised her with a box. Black velvet and expensive looking, and her heart fluttered, her eyes widened, and _oh holy god was this what she thought it was?_

_It was better._

The ring was silver, but it was on a chain, tucked beneath the cushion. And there was a Volociraptor perched on a branch in the middle. She put it on instantly.

Curtis saw it, and instantly fell in love. With her Boyfriend.

* * *

He was so proud that he recognised the Brachiosuarus on the phone case he gave her as a Hanukkah present.

She didn’t quite have the heart to tell him is was a Diplodocus.

* * *

 

She gave him back the ring. She couldn't bring her self to throw away the presents, so she hides them. From herself.

* * *

People died. They got re-engaged.

The T-Rex declaring _‘all my friends are dead_ ’ went to the back of her closest after it had made her ruin her makeup for the forth time. She never got it back out.

* * *

 

They moved out of the loft. The commute to work was longer, but the space, the fresh start, was more than worth waking up earlier for.

She didn’t remember where the back travel mug had come from, doesn’t remember when he first pressed it into her hands, but everyday, the Pterodactyl was there, smiling up at her and keeping her coffee warm for her.

* * *

 

He bought her earrings on their Honeymoon, silver, small, and Parasaurolophus’.

* * *

 

He gaves her a belly bar for the navel piercing that he was still obsessed with. There was a Triceratops that dangled down her stomach, and she cried when she told him she couldn’t wear it.

He’d looked so confused, and the only way she could explain it was to hand him the pregnancy test.

* * *

 

“Oliver?” Felicity let herself into the house as quietly as she could, and locked the door behind her on habit. There was no rely, but she’d been expecting that. In all likelihood, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa-bed again. Such was the life of a stay at home dad.

He left her dinner on the side, and she bypassed the wine in favour of the coffee she’d missed so much in the last year.

“Hon?” She turned, food demolished behind her, to face the stairs as her husband descended them. He wasn’t asleep, and she could see why. “You home?”

The green bundle in Oliver’s arms squirmed and reached out for her mummy. Felicity accepted her daughter with excited open arms.

“Hi Baby!” She hugged her close and smiled across to Oliver, where he was pulling a bottle from the fridge. “I missed you! We’re you a good girl for Daddy?”

“She was very good earlier. Even went down for her nap without a fuss, didn’t you, Emmy?” He kissed the top of her head when he was close enough, and handed the bottle to Felicity before he kissed her head too.

“Oliver?” When Emma was finally sucking away at her bottle, Felicity looked up at her husband,bouncing slightly on the spot.

“Yes Love?”

“Did you turn our daughter into a T-Rex while I was at work?”

“What? _No!_ ” The spines on the body suit dug into her neck, and the hood tiggled her arms as she laughed at him. He was tired, that much was obvious. He did less running around in leather these days, but running around after a toddler was more than enough to make up for that. “Okay, maybe a little bit. Only when she was being a monster going to bed. I thought maybe she’d settle down when you got home but…” He gestured at the squirming child.

“I know exactly what she needs!” Felicity grinned, handing the baby back and heading off up the stairs. “You put her too bed! I’ll be there in a moment!”

She burst into Emma’s room as quietly as she could, and raised the beloved blue Triceratops up to Oliver’s face, the same way that he had done to her all those years ago when he’d first found her. And she sat the dinosaur down, right at the end of their daughters crib.

_Tricey didn’t stay there long. Emma chewed on the same ear her mother had, carried the plush by the same leg, all though out the house and to pre-school too. She was there for comfort when her first girlfriend broke her heart, and her first boyfriend, and she made the safe trip to and from university, like she had followed Felicity to MIT and back._

_And when Harper Rey Diggle-Queen was born, Tricey was there, waiting to meet her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Dinosaur merchandise in this fic exists. Links are on my tumblr, just shoot me an ask.

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally out of line with my current headcanons, but hey, it's old


End file.
